Queen of Hell

Rosemary Gibbs is a painter whose visions of Hell inspire her, and whose work attracts the Devil himself. The two become lovers, and Rosemary must learn to deal with the consequences of being in love with the ruler of Hell.

“They say Lucifer was the brightest and most beloved of angels,” were the words she found when she did find them. She could feel her heart breaking in her chest, and the tears finally began to fall as she looked on at the ethereal beauty that stood before her, “But why? Why show me this? Why make me fall in love with you?”

“I was not supposed to. It was not supposed to be you, but I was never one for rules,” the Devil forced a wry smile, looking to the floor. If Rose did not know better, she would have thought it was shame in his eyes. “I was supposed to seduce another. One night only to bring forth my heir—God might manage immaculate conception, but I cannot. So I crafted a little life out of lies and deception, something to leave the child I would father. The night it was supposed to be done, however, I saw your paintings. Those changed everything.”

“How did they change anything?”

“They were images of my home. You did not make pictures from books or from childish ideas of fires and pain. Of course, it is not a kind place to be, but you painted it as though I were there,” he looked wistfully above her, and for the first time since entering the room she realized her painting was framed and hung from the wall. It was a simple enough picture, although quite large – a river of a strange redness cutting through sharp-pointed blades of grass the color of ash. The skies were made of blood, and there were faces in the tree that fed from the river. Faces contorted in fear and need, an awful mixture of torture and death.

“I don't understand,” she pleaded again, “Lucifer was condemned to Hell. The Devil... the Devil. I don't understand how these transitions work. Aren't you supposed to resent humans?”

“You look human, but you have a soul of flames. I suppose even Satan has a soul mate.”

“And I'm it?”

“Let me prove it.”

Suddenly she was in his arms, their bodies pressed to one another in passion. His lips were against hers, steal rough kisses, fingers wrapped in the tendrils of her hair, pulling and tugging her like a puppet to meet his desires.